


Come Undone

by abrandnewheart



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Glove Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:29:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27710735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abrandnewheart/pseuds/abrandnewheart
Summary: "It's the gloves, isn't it?" The question was barely able to get asked between insistent lips trying to find Kiyoomi's, but asked it was, and it got Atsumu to stop in his tracks for all of five seconds."So what if it is?"
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 149





	Come Undone

_Snap._

He didn't know when or where that noise became so goddamn appealing, but Atsumu heard it all the way from the lounge, loud as a gunshot and ringing in his ears even through the wall that separated him from where Kiyoomi stood in the kitchen. He couldn't help the way he reacted; couldn't help the way he subconsciously got to his feet and padded through from one room to the next to find out exactly what was going on. 

Cleaning. He shouldn't have been surprised, not really, but he let out a soft, "Oh," when he entered the kitchen all the same. It was all too easy for Atsumu to slink over to where Kiyoomi leaned over the kitchen sink, to press his chest to Kiyoomi's back and wrap his arms around Kiyoomi's middle, squeezing softly just the once. 

"You're distracting me," Kiyoomi wasn't pleased, but that was okay. He never was. 

" _You're_ distracting _me,_ " Atsumu whined, and he moved his arms, bringing them back to trail along Kiyoomi's wide shoulders and down long arms, lingering, fingering, where skin met the end of a long blue nitrile glove, then down to rest his hands atop Kiyoomi's, lacing their fingers together and squeezing. 

"Not this again," Kiyoomi breathed, but Atsumu thought that maybe he didn't mind, not when he was pushing his hips back like he was looking for confirmation of what he already knew to be true. True, because Atsumu pushed his hips forward, pressing a rapidly growing hardness to meet him where Kiyoomi pushed back. 

"Sorry baby," Atsumu said, but he didn't mean it. Why would he be sorry when his only crime was a sudden-onset bout of wanting to _rail his boyfriend?_ Or get railed. Atsumu wasn’t exactly picky when it came to his Omi-Omi. 

Kiyoomi disentangled their fingers and turned to face Atsumu, who was met with another sudden onset of _what the fuck what the fuck what the fu-._

Bobby pins. Several of them, in fact, slipped in amongst Kiyoomi’s curls to keep the floppiest parts from falling into his face. Atsumu thought that maybe Kiyoomi looked softer like this, when he wasn't hidden behind a curtain that threatened to hide his eyes from view. He would swear that his heart skipped not one but several beats, and Kiyoomi must have caught the change in his expression, because he quirked an eyebrow and asked, "What?"

"You're just so pretty," It was almost drowned out by a sudden surge upwards, because Atsumu didn't think he could wait a second longer than he had to to get his lips on Kiyoomi's. 

He always kissed like he was hungry, but suddenly he was fucking ravenous, and the friction where Kiyoomi raised a gloved hand to run a thumb along his cheek sent him feral, pressing in impossibly close, with little regard for the fact he was practically bending his boyfriend backwards over the fucking kitchen sink, of all places. 

"It's the gloves, isn't it?" The question was barely able to get asked between insistent lips trying to find Kiyoomi's, but asked it was, and it got Atsumu to stop in his tracks for all of five seconds. 

"So what if it is?" He hadn't thought about it before, not really, but oh, he was thinking about it then, when Kiyoomi trailed gloved hands down his neck and bare arms, when he snuck them inside of his shirt to trail fingertips down his back like he was trying to scratch him through the plasticky feel of gloves.

A shudder ran through him. He felt his cock jump, and Kiyoomi quirked an eyebrow as he got to his knees.

Kiyoomi was quick and methodical in his movements and it shouldn't have been such a turn-on, it really shouldn't have, but by the time Kiyoomi had Atsumu's zipper undone and his pants around his knees, Atsumu was leaking. 

It only got worse as Kiyoomi pressed his fingertips into the outside of Atsumu's thighs, as he trailed his fingers in a facade of a delicate movement across the pale, sensitive skin on the inside of Atsumu’s legs but wasn't. Nitrile gloves made anything delicate impossible with the friction. 

Atsumu hated and loved it in equal measure and he found himself thrusting his hips forward into thin air. He went to wrap a hand around himself, to do something to ease the way the pressure was building up, but Kiyoomi slapped his hand away. And so, Atsumu returned back to squeezing the side of the kitchen sink as Kiyoomi toyed with him between his legs. 

"I can't believe you interrupted me," A hard squeeze to the inside of his thigh and Atsumu's legs were shaking. "How _rude_ of you." 

"Omi, I-" 

" _Be quiet._ " 

Atsumu listened, biting down hard on his lower lip to keep himself from talking. If it was what Kiyoomi wanted, if it was what would get him trailing his fingers ever closer to where he was hot and heavy and needy then he'd do anything, maybe. 

Kiyoomi was patient. He looked up at Atsumu's face to see if he listened, craning his head back to observe him as he said, "Good boy. Now stay quiet or I won't let you finish." 

The threat alone had Atsumu trembling again, and it only got worse when Kiyoomi finally, finally leaned in to take the entirety of Atsumu's cock in his mouth in one fell swoop.

It was always a strange dichotomy, the hot-wet of Omi's mouth, the way it felt pliant, natural, the way it had give as he rolled his hips, compared with the way that gloved fingers were cooler, clearly man-made and dry, meaning his skin got tugged a hundred different ways. If he thought about it too hard, thought about the irony in how he came undone and dirtied material that was intended to keep things sterile, clean—well, he'd fall apart a lot faster. 

Not that it was ever a slow process anyway, not really, not when Kiyoomi was a fucking menace with his mouth and his tongue, not when he took every last inch and looked so pleased with himself when he heard the resulting, shuddering, _wrecked,_ "Omi." He wasn't supposed to talk, he was supposed to be quiet, but how could he be quiet when he was supposed to keep still, too? He always had to stay still, Kiyoomi hated it when he got too into it, when he fucked forward with abandon, when he tried to make the most of the hot-wet-tight before him.

Atsumu's knuckles were white where they clutched the edge of the sink with the effort of not jerking his hips back and then forward again, and Kiyoomi let his cock slip from his mouth with a _smack_. That's a noise Atsumu could get used to, too, but he stares down and makes a pained sort of noise, because fuck, he'd been so close and he was letting him go, was he just being a tease, what a fucking dick move—

His thoughts were derailed when Kiyoomi wrapped a gloved hand around him. 

Oh. 

Oh, no.

He was going to get a _gloved handjob._

That thought had Atsumu weak at the knees, and it took every ounce of strength in his body to stay standing as Kiyoomi pumped his fist along his cock just once. There was less friction now than there would have been were it not for the sloppy blowjob, but it's different than a bare hand. 

Oddly smoother. More and less sensation all at once. Atsumu didn’t quite know what to think, but it didn’t matter. Kiyoomi was thinking for him. 

It didn't take long, between the fact that Atsumu was now allowed to rock his hips and the fact that Kiyoomi had made it his mission to make Atsumu come undone. 

It built like a rubber band, and Atsumu just about managed to warn Kiyoomi with an, "Omi, I-" before he snapped. 

Kiyoomi made no effort to move, and so when Atsumu finally came round to being able to see again, blinking away the stars at the corner of his vision, he was met with his boyfriend and his soft, soft face, with his hair pulled out of the way absolutely covered in come. In his hair. On a blue glove. Down his cheek and dripping down the side of his mouth and off his chin, though Kiyoomi's tongue was fast and he licked up what he could reach. 

It shouldn't have been hot, but it was, though Atsumu didn't really have time to appreciate it as he dropped down onto his knees beside Kiyoomi and leaned forward to rest his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. "You're a menace," Atsumu declared, voice still weak and shaky to match the quivering in his thighs.

"Says you," Kiyoomi answered, stupidly, impossibly still put together. "I was just trying to clean the damn kitchen. _You're_ a menace." 

Atsumu heard the gloves snap off again, and he felt the way Kiyoomi shifted to find the excess fabric of Atsumu's shirt to wipe his face. Hardly an ideal solution, but probably the best he could do when they were both just sat on the damn floor. 

"Hey Omi-Omi?" He asked, once he'd regained at least some of what little sense he possessed. 

"Yes?"

"Wanna go for a shower?" 

"Sure. Let's go."

"Carry me." 

Kiyoomi didn’t actually refuse, and so Atsumu considered himself very lucky indeed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are much appreciated! 
> 
> You can catch me on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/anoffbrandheart)!


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